Lower back adventures

I'm home. This is a good thing; I'm eager to get back into family routine.

So I was going to wake up first thing Saturday morning and get to work. Our living room is chock full of boxes that need to be unpacked and sorted-- books and papers and miscellaneous etc. that lived with me at school for the last three years. I was actively looking forward to getting everything organized, filed and put away-- a most satisfying prospect, really. . .

All right, I realize this is not the sort of activity that normally makes the heart race with anticipation; but the process of bringing order out of chaos in such a visible way does have its own appeal. Too much clutter distracts me; it leaves me antsy and out of sorts. So getting rid of that enormous pile of cardboard-encased stuff squating in the middle of my traffic pattern is someting I want to get to, ASAP.

But my back had other plans.

Somehow, I overdid something Thursday or Friday. At this point, I'm inclined to blame the hours and hours spent before, during and after commencement, standing around on stone floors and concrete sidewalks in dress shoes. Not high heels-- I haven't worn anyting higher than 2" since I had back surgery several years ago-- but certainly not the sneakers, loafers or boots that I normally wear.

Whatever the reason, my back was not happy with me. In fact, it was decidedly unhappy-- enough that I had trouble getting out of the car when I got home Friday night, and the next two days were spent trying not to move much-- on ice packs, antinflammatories and Stupid Drugs (so called because taking them leaves me feeling as though my brain has turned into dryer lint). I haven't had it go out like this for more than a year. And I haven't missed that experience. Not only am I not fond of pain, but I detest not being able to function properly. (Now, I know there are those of you out there who will gently point out the spiritual virtues of having to step back, accept help, engage in some self-care time, etc., etc. Yes, of course you're right. Now stow it.)

Thankfully, I am slowly improving. I was able to leave off the Stupid Drugs when the Ref. and LW came down Monday, and even to take them over to show them where I'll be working for this next year. I had also offered to take them up to the Dunes, but that was more than I could manage. It's a real shame, as that area is one of the best things about northwest Indiana. I hope I can get them back there someday.

Anyway, we went home for dinner and conversation; then the next morning the Ref joined me (early risers, unite!) for a walk, as I began to work the kinks out.

Today it continues to improve; the pain is subsiding to mere soreness, and is almost unnoticable for short periods, so long as I continue to be careful. Which I do, trust me on this.

All those boxes are still there, of course. Just where is that darn fairy godmother when you need her?? Without her magical aid, the goal is to get them emptied before Sunday, when I leave for a week at our diocesan youth camp (more about that later).

Have I mentioned how much I loathe being incapacitated?